


i am the night, i am your fate

by daffodilsforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Rimming, Smut, just a teeny tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodilsforlou/pseuds/daffodilsforlou
Summary: They dance and sing along to upbeat disco songs for what feels like hours, getting damp with sweat and spilled drinks, sometimes their toes being stepped on and their bodies pushed around.“Isn’t it wonderful?” Harry asks him four songs in, leaning in to speak directly into Louis’ ear.Louis’ not sure if he means the club, the dancing, the drinks in their hands or the people, but he thinks Harry could say anything right now and the answer would be yes. Still, he yells over the music, “what is?”Harry leans in again, this time wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders to bring him closer.“This” he yells back, eyes looking at everyone on the dance floor before returning to Louis. “We finally fit”The year is 1979, Harry just found out about The Blitz Kids and wants to experience the gay club scene for himself. Of course, Louis goes with him.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	i am the night, i am your fate

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance if this doesn’t sound either British or American enough to you, it’s my duty to let you know I’m neither. Anyhow, I really hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: i know the Blitz Kids were a little more hardcore and camp than just dressing up in girl clothes, but for the sake of the story, imagine them as your average mainstream drag queen. 
> 
> CW: this story contains underage sex and drinking, seeing as it takes place when Harry is seventeen and Louis’ eighteen.
> 
> Here’s a little [tumblr post](https://daffodilsforlou.tumblr.com/tagged/i-am-the-night) if you’d like to check it out!
> 
> Title taken from “Follow me” by Amanda Lear, which is the song that inspired this whole thing.

The first time Harry told Louis aboutthemwason a blearyMonday morning back in February.

They were in the cafeteria, just the two of them sitting at the table as it was routine, calmly eating their lunch and talking quietly.

It wasn’t a common occurrence,but that specific week they hadn’t seen each other since Friday, so they were catching up. When Louis finished recounting hisuneventful weekend, Harry started talking about his.He had gone to some unknown barin Londonwith hisolderfriends,and apparently he had seena boy dressed up in a dress, and another one wearing makeupanda blonde wigand then another in all three.

Louis started laughing at that, sure that Harry hadsimply confusedsome girls for boys, but Harry told him that no, they were in fact boys, and that yes, he was sure of it. He toldhimthey were called The Blitz Kids,and that they dressed like that just because they liked it, because they belonged to a community that accepted them, and therefore were able to be unabashedly themselves and whoever they wanted to be.

That notion seemed ridiculous to Louis, never having heardof anythingremotely similar before, so he kind of didn’t believe him at thetime.

Butthen Harry kept talking about them,about how they weren’t the only ones that did that, that there was a whole new world out of this shit town, his face lighting up every time he mentioned there were more people like _him_ out there and they were accepted and real and _valid._

Louis ended up believing everything he said with every fiber of his being.

So ever sincethat day Harry had been talking about The Blitz Kidsnon-stop for months.And when Louis suggested they could go to a gay bar themselves to get him to shut up, Harry just started talking aboutthatinstead.

  
  
*  
  


The light inthe room casts Harry in a soft yellow color that makes everything he’s doing look ethereal.

He’s crouched in front ofhisbody lengthmirror going throughGemma’s bag of makeup that he stole for this sole occasion, putting out brushes and compact pink cases and tubes of lipstick and then putting them back in when he apparently doesn’t like them. Louis’ reclinedagainst Harry’s bedframe, both of his arms behind his headand feet crossed over one another, watching him.

Weeks ago, when they first decided that they were going out to this club, Harry got so excited he started planning everything ahead. Theyhad to go out onaFriday,he said, because his mom worked late, sothat waythey could get ready without worrying about getting caught.They wouldhaveto save their lunch money for at least two weeks, according to him, so they could be able to afford buying drinks.He arrangedto meet withsome of hisolder gayfriends at the town’sChapel,so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost on theirwayto the club.Hell, he even made a mixtape to get in the mood for thenight.

Right now, RuPaul’s voice singing a rendition of Elton John’s “Don’t go breaking my heart” is filling the silence, the words alsobeing mumbled bytheboth of them.Harry’s moving his head to therhythm of the song as he assesses every piece of makeup Gemma owns,and when he finally finds something he likes,he startsconfidentlyapplying it on his face.

He picks up awhite compact case and pops it open without problem, taking out a sort of beige spongetostart tapping his face gently with it.

Louis doesn’t know the first thing about make up, his sisters not old enough to even take interest in it, so he asks, “how do you know what goes where?”

Harry doesn’t stop tapping his foreheadnor does he stop looking at himself in the mirrorto respond, “I’ve seen women do it enough times”

Louis just hums, feetmovingalongthe beat of the song.

It takes Harry probably two minutes to coat his whole face in the beige powder, and as soon as he’s done,he movesonto the next step.Louis watches himpick up a brush and a transparent casewitha pink powder nestled insidethis time. As he opens it, the firsts notes of“Dancing Queen” start flowing through the room. He coats the brush with the pink powder and then taps it against thecontainer to get rid of the excess.Hesucks his cheeks in to accentuatetheirhighest point–which causesLouisto let out a soft chuckle–and startssweeping the brush over them.It makes his naturally colored cheeks look even rosier.

Satisfied with the color onhis cheeks,Harryputs the case and the brush back in the makeup bag and swaps them fora white rectangular containerand a smaller brush.This time, when the brush comes in contact with the contents of the plastic case, it gets coated with what appears tobe a shimmery pigment.Louis looks as Harrybringsthe brush to his previously closed eyelid and starts stroking it with color.It paints it in a sparkly blue.Once he’s pleased with the amount of color on his eyelid, he repeats the process on the other until they’re somewhat even.

Itlooks pretty, Louis thinks, mesmerized by Harry’s movements and their results.

Likelyunaware of Louis following his every move,Harry gets upthen, going to his dresser to getaskirt out. According to him, he had to trick one of his girl friends into lending him some clothes because he didn’t want Gemma or his mom to get suspicious if they happened to notice somethingmissingfrom their wardrobes.Once he gets the skirt out, hesteps into the opening one foot at a time andthenpulls it up over his hips,buttoningupall but the last two buttons, thepudgy of his hipsspilling cutely over the hem of it.

The skirt he borrowedreacheshimmid-calfandis a pale blue color that makes Louis irrationally wonder if Harry decided on it because it matches the blue of his eyes.Although, knowing Harry, he probably did.When he’s finished, he just looks at his reflectionin the mirror. 

After a few seconds of staringat himself, Harry startspivotingin his place, making the skirt flare out around his calves, seizing himself up, as if he forgot Louis’ in the room with him. He looks beautiful, Louis thinks, holding his breath inas ifto not disturb Harry from his reverie.He looks at him swishing his skirt around, flattening his palms over the fabric and smoothing the non-existent wrinkles.

Louis feels like he’s intruding on something he’s not meant to see, but at the same time he can’t stop staring.

The artificial blush on Harry’s cheeksand theshimmery eyeshadow he applied on his eyelids make him look juvenile but also older, in acomplimentary sort of way. He looks young and daintybutalsohandsome and experienced,like he knows what he’s doing, who he is. Which is unheard offor high schoolers, but he guesses Harry’s always been ahead of his age in that aspect.

Harry breaks from his trance seconds later and throws a shy look to Louis over his shoulder, as if he just remembered he’s not alone in the room. Louis smiles at him reassuringly,trying to tell him without speaking _“it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just me”_.

The younger boysmiles back, relief washing over his features. He looks at himself in the mirror again and puckers his lips, “what color of lipstick should I put on?”

It’s the first thing he tells him since he started putting makeup on,and it makes Louis happyto haveHarry askfor his opinion, as unexperienced asit may be.

“What colors have you got?” he asks giddily, rearranging in hisplace.

They decide on a glossy red lipstick to match his cheeks.

Just as Harry starts applying it,“Doyathink I’m sexy”by Rob Stewartstartsplayingthrough the stereo. Louis laughs, thinking about Harry recording this song into his cassette, but when he looks at him, he sees Harry’s _dancing_ to it. He’s still carefully applying the lipstick, but now he’salso moving the lower half of his body to the song. In such a way that makes Louis’dick takeinterest.

Subtly adjusting his crotch, Louis warns, “Keep wiggling that bum like that and we won’t be getting out of this room anytime soon”

“Leave me be” Harry huffs.

But because he is a tease and Louis just gave himsomething to tease him about, he starts wiggling his body with purposenow, the movements ridiculously accentuated to the point he even misses someof thebeats of the song.

Louis’ gaze keeps glued to his dancing bum, a smile threatening to take over his features. He traces his teeth with his tongue instead, ashe slides his eyes slowly over Harry’s body in front of the mirror, taking in hishairycalvesandpudgywaist, histonedstomachand broad back, all the way up to his handsome face. When Louis reaches his destination, he meets Harry’sgazeand realizes he’s been watching himthe whole time, hischeeks rapidly turn pink. Harry throws his head back and cackles.

Not one for being teased,Louis gets up from his place on the bed,cheekswarm, and makes his way to Harry. He sneaks up on him from behind,wrappinghis arms around his waistandliftinghim up a little. Harry lets out a surprised squeakas soon as his feet stop touching the floor,his laugh turning hysterical in no time.

When Louis puts him down again, he swats his hands away, prompting Louis to lift them up in asign of surrender.

After Harry’s laughs quiet down, he goes back to finishingapplying the lipstick, and doesn’t say anything when Louissettleshis armsbackaround his waist.

“How would they know about me?” Louis wonders,havinghookedhis chin over Harry’s left shouldertolookat him through the mirror.

“What d’you mean?” Harry asks, head slightly tiltedto the side.

“Yeah, like…” Louis hesitates, not sure how to phrase his concerns and not sound dumb, “how would they know I’m also gay?”

Harry furrows his already groomed eyebrows andsends him a confused look through the mirror, “’cause you are”

The older boy faltersin his response. Of course he is, that’s not the point he’s trying to make though.

“I just don’t want them to think I’m some straight guy that got somehow fucking lost”Louis states, somewhat frustrated Harry doesn’t get what he’s getting at.

Harry snorts, “they won’t”

“How d’you know?”

“Your wrist will make sure of that” he jokes, one of his dimples denting hisartificiallyrosy cheek.

“Ha ha” Louis deadpans, not sure if he should be annoyed or amused by Harry mocking his unintentional limp wrist for the umpteenth time.

Harry shrugs his shoulders, jostling Louis’ head a little, his other dimple making an appearance in the mirror. Louis squeezes him hard in retaliation until Harry squeaks. It makes both of them laughonce more, high on the feeling of what this night promises to be.

They’re still laughing when Louis gently says, “maybe you should put some on me, too”

Harry stops laughing abruptlyat that, alittle gasp leaving his cherry lips. He turns around in Louis’ armstoask, “you want me to put make up on you?”

Louis can feel his cheeks warming up again with embarrassment at being scrutinized like this by his boyfriend, but he doesn’t let it deter him from nodding his head.He didn’t think it would be something he’d want for himself, but after seeing how much this evidently means to Harry, he wants to try it too.Harry lights up with glee.

He guides them to sit cross-legged in front of each other on the floor and starts rummaging through Gemma’s bag once again.

As Harry’s distracted withthe makeup, “The best of my love” by The Emotions starts playing. They bop their heads alongtothe song until Harry tells him he has to be still.He uses every product he put on himself earlier on Louis’ face –sometimes his cute pink tongue poking out in concentration– except Louis’ eyes get painted green instead of blue, “to match” Harry says.

During the whole process,Louis’ mindisa loop of“ _the best of mylove, the best of my love, the best of my love_”

They leave Harry’s house shortly afterthey finishto meethis friends.Putting makeup on Louis took more time than they had originally considered, seeing as Louis kept stealing kisses from Harry and messing up his lipstick, so they have to run in order to make iton time.

When they make it to the Chapel, hand in hand, there’s a yellowMorris Marina waiting for them.Harry approaches it and greets his friend in the driver seat, Louis hanging back until Harry’s signalingtohim it’s okay to get in.

Insidethe car, there’s more people thanLouis expected, so they have to squeeze in the back seat, his left side ending pressed tightly against the door and Harryon top of his lap. After they say hi to everyone, Harry’s friend that’s in the driver seat –Connor, Louis believes his name is–looksback through the front mirror and asks,

“Have you got your fakeID with you?”

They both nod, even though he just asked Harry. It’s nestled in the front pocket of Louis’ corduroys, next to his non-fake one.

“You probably won’t need it, but it’s best to be safe” another boy that’s squeezed into the back seat with them says.

Harrynods again and thentwist his body tolookbackatLouiswith a lit-up smile, his bottom lip caught by his cute bunny teeth. Louis smiles back.

_The best of my love, the best of my love, the best of my love  
  
_

_*  
  
_

At the club, they have to wait almost twenty minutes to get in. Inside, they wait another ten in line to order their drinks and then finally another ten to get a table.

Harry’s friends are loud, loud, loud and it makes it seem like they’ve come here before. They probably have. Louis feels really young all of a sudden.

Everywhere he looks, he can see sparkly short and long dresses, sparkly long _sheer_ dresses, brunette, blonde, _orange_ wigs, high heels, skirts, glitter, girls wearing showy makeup, _boys_ wearing showy makeup, girls _kissing girls, boys kissing boys–_

His head’s spinning.

When he chances a look at Harry, he’s looking everywhere and everyone with a look of pure _ecstasy_ on his face _._ He’s smiling the widest Louis’ ever seen him yet, deep dimples adorning his cheeks. His breathing is ragged, and he’s got his fists clenching at his sides as if to contain his euphoria somehow.

Suddenly, Louis head settles down.

The booth they settle in is quite small, but not as small as the car they drove here in, so they manage. A boy named Daniel seats at Louis’ left and Harry seats at his right, at the end of the booth.

Everyone starts drinking and talking right away, but Louis can’t bring himself to do either. He feels jittery. He’s afraid someone will see him wearing makeup and _laugh_ , he’s even more afraid someone’s gonna notice Harry’s wearing a skirt and be _cruel_ to him _._ He’s afraid that if it happens he won’t be able to protect him.

And it’s stupid, of course it is stupid to think, how dare he come here and feel frightened he’s gonna be judged when everyone around is the same as him?

He’s so stuck in his own head that when Harry tries to grab his hand, Louis flinches away.

At first, he reasons it’s just because he doesn’t want Harry to feel his sweaty palm. Then Harry reaches for him again, and Louis scoots away.

Harry sends him a confused smile and Louis adverts his gaze. _God_ , he’s a coward. He should be able to just _touch_ Harry. His boyfriend. Somehow, the only thing he can think of are the cruel comments their classmates have made about them.

Harry’s smile gets smaller and smaller every time Louis cowers away.

When someone complains they’re done with their drinks, Harry hastily volunteers to go get more. He gets up and leaves before anyone can protest. Louis feels like shit.

He stays in the booth, a boy named Alex striking conversation with him as soon as Harry gets up, even when Louis’ gaze follows Harry. Alex doesn’t stop talking though, forcing Louis to stop looking at Harry and try to be decent company. They talk for about five minutes –or well, Alex talks– before he succumbs again and strays his gaze to look for his boyfriend.

He finds him at the bar, his forearms resting on the counter and eyelashes bating prettily while he waits for his drinks. Louis smiles when he sees he starts tapping his fingers against his own arms with impatience. He wants to get up and go to him, not comfortable with this much distance between them in an unknown place like this. 

But then a boy approaches him. A beautiful, tall, dark skinned boy wearing a blue dress that reaches him mid-thigh and an ostentatious blonde wig. Louis watches as he slides close to Harry and mirrors his position against the counter, striking up easy conversation. A frown makes its way to Louis’ eyebrows.

Alex clears his throat, making Louis look back at him. He gifts him a fake smile as an apology, and fists his hands under the table in annoyance. Louis pretends to pay attention to the rest of his story, and as soon as he finishes, he doesn’t even bother to be subtle in the way he immediately whips his head in the direction of the bar.

Harry’s still talking to the boy, but now their bodies are pressed together, because the place is packed or because one of them decided to get closer, Louis doesn’t know, he only knows his body starts flooding with jealousy at the sight. He thinks he sees red when the boy bumps his hip against Harry’s and then places a gentle hand on the small of his back to stable him. And Harry, beautiful, kind Harry, just laughs, head thrown back and dimples all in display for this boy that’s _not Louis_.

He wants to get up and shove the boy back, tell him he better back off ‘cause Harry’s _his_ , but then he thinks about how happy Harry looks, about how loud he’s laughing at whatever the boy’s telling him, and what does he have to offer? He can’t even bring himself to hold his hand in a gay club. And this boy, this beautiful, high heel wearer boy is making him smile.

Something Louis hasn’t done since they got here.

So he stays put, frown being replaced by a down tilted mouth. He tries to get involved in the conversation the other guys are currently having, but Alex keeps sending him weird looks, so he resolves to just listen.

When Harry comes back with the drinks in his hands, he send Louis a weak smile. He settles back at his side like before he got up, but this time he doesn’t try to grab his hand or press their thighs together. Louis can hear his heart crack as he returns the smile.

He can actually feel how tense Harry’s at his side, contributing to the conversation with quiet commentary. And Louis decides that just won’t do. This night is supposed to be great, the best of their teenage lives. They don’t have to _hide_ here, they can be whoever they want to be. Whoever they _already are._

They were both so happy and excited about tonight, Louis won’t let himself and his stupid fears ruin this for them. For Harry.

He places his hand on Harry’s upper thigh to grab his attention, Harry efficiently looking his way, and Louis takes a deep breath before surging forward.

His lipstick-covered lips come in contact with Harry’s gently, the pressure barely there at first. Harry still lets out a surprised gasp, though.

Louis’ heart starts to beat fast, faster than he thought it would, the adrenaline of kissing Harry in a public place rising shivers down his spine, even if their lips are just pressing against each other chastely, nervous about someone seeing them do it.

Finding his courage, Louis starts to move his lips tenderly, overlapping them with Harry’s. The glossy of their lipsticks makes the slide smoother, which is a nice surprise to Louis, who starts kissing him properly after a few more seconds of hesitation.

He squeezes Harry’s thigh, the younger boy scooting closer and pressing every possible part of their bodies together in return. Harry secures a hold on his jaw and tries to bite tauntingly at Louis’ top lip that’s trapped in between his own.

It encourages the older boy to kiss him hard, public space be damned. He traces his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, tasting his cherry lipstick and the drink he just had and Harry opes his mouth eagerly with a quiet moan. When Louis’ warm, soft tongue finds Harry’s, they glide together, the combined taste of their lips eliciting a smile out of Louis.

Every time they pull back to catch their breath, it’s only for a few seconds, and their lips make a loud smacking sound even though they don’t get too far. Every time, Harry’s hot breath hits Louis’ face, making him blow his own breath obnoxiously on Harry’s face in retaliation. It makes Harry giggle.

After they separate for good, Louis looks past Harry’s shoulders and browses the bar for the boy that was flirting with him. He wants to know if he saw them. But when Louis finds him, at the same place he last saw him, he already has his attention elsewhere –as it was expected– and Louis feels kind of dumb for claiming Harry so shamelessly out of jealousy.

When he returns his gaze to Harry, though, the younger boy is looking at him with a dashing smile, almost matching the euphoric one he was wearing at the start of the night. It makes Louis’ stomach flutter. And he doesn’t feel dumb anymore, he feels like he could conquer the world just so he could give it to Harry.

He drapes his arm over Harry’s shoulders and kisses him again, as eager as before.

The night continues without another unpleasant incident, they drink and laugh and _kiss_. Louis finds out that what Alex was talking to him about earlier was his own first experience here, which makes him feel a little like an arsehole for not listening, but after he apologises Alex tells him it’s okay. So they keep drinking and Harry keeps looking beautiful, and they become loud loud loud.

With Harry’s hand in his, he finally feels at ease.

Afterwards, some boys in high heels get up on a stage Louis hadn’t noticed before, and the crowd cheers loudly when they introduce themselves. Apparently they’re gonna be performing some songs, Harry’s friends immediately getting up and hurrying to the dance floor when they hear. Harry and Louis just follow, drinks in hand.

The dance floor is full of extravagant people, but Louis doesn’t feel anxious anymore, so when Harry grabs him by the hips to bring him close he goes willingly.

They dance and sing along to upbeat disco songs for what feels like hours, getting damp with sweat and spilled drinks, sometimes their toes being stepped on and their bodies pushed around.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Harry asks him four songs in, leaning in to speak directly into Louis’ ear.

Louis’ not sure if he means the club, the dancing, the drinks in their hands or the people, but he thinks Harry could say anything right now and the answer would be yes. Still, he yells over the music, “what is?”

Harry leans in again, this time wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders to bring him closer.

“This” he yells back, eyes looking at everyone on the dance floor before returning to Louis. “We finally fit”

The way he says it makes all the air leave Louis’ lungs, as if he was just punched in the gut. He might as well have. Harry sounds so relieved and excited and _happy_ , and Louis was thinking it too. For once in their lives they’re not the outcasts.

So Louis laughs, dizzy with the feeling, so in love with the night and his boy, and he leans in to smash their lips together. He was going for a kiss, but they’re so happy their mouths can’t do anything but grin, so they end up just pressing smiles against each other’s mouths.

Eventually, the upbeat songs fade into mellow ones, and “Follow me” by Amanda Lear comes through the speakers.

When they dance to it, it feels like they’re doing it in slow motion, the lights catching on Harry’s eyes and reflecting marvel. It feels like they’re the only people left in the world, even though Louis knows it’s not true, even though they’re surrounded by something bigger than any of them ever imagined existed. 

They dance really close to each other, whispering the words in their ears.

At the end of the song, when she starts to whisper the words sexily, Louis does too, exaggerating his movements with flamboyance and telling Harry his wish is his command. Harry can’t stop laughing. 

They laugh and dance and kiss, and Louis thinks this right here is going to be his favourite memory forever.

*  
  


Louis’ trying to maneuver a pretty drunk Harry to his room, the task proving way harder than he originally thought it would be. He keeps imitating the way Louis danced to Amanda Lear at the club and bumping into every piece of furniture in the house. They have to stop several times to make sure he hasn’t woken anyone up.

When they finally reach the second floor, the younger boy has plastered himself to Louis’ back and is leaving wet messy kisses to anywhere he can reach of his face, but mostly just mouthing at the back of his neck. Somehow, Louis manages to get them inside the room and lock the door.

Once he’s sure they’re in the clear, Louis turns around to kiss him properly.

He settles his hands on Harry’s middle, fitting each one of his fingers in the spaces between the bones of Harry’s ribcage, pressing down softly and feeling it expand with every breath he takes. He inches his face close to Harry’s until they’re a breath away, and asks, “Did you have fun, baby?”

“Yeah” Harry whispers, gaze locked on Louis’ lips.

Louis chuckles softly. Not the time for talking, then. Harry traps his bottom lip between his teeth, and his hands come to rest on Louis’ hips.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry nods and slowly surges forward, erasing the space between them. They kiss slow, their remaining lipstick making the slide of their lips easier, softer. Harry tastes like cherry and fries and seven different kinds of alcohol and Louis’ enamoured.

He brings his hands to Harry’s back and pulls him closer, starts moving his lips with intent. He glides his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip and Harry opens easily, eagerly tracing his tongue against Louis’ when they meet.

Before long, the kiss turns heated, the room filling with the smacking noises their lips make every time they break apart to catch their breath. Louis can feel Harry starting to get hard against his own hardening cock.

“I kind of want to lick you out a little under your skirt” Louis says the next time they break for breath, as he smooths his hands over what he can reach of Harry’s thighs, “can I?”

Ever since Harry put the skirt on, Louis’ been thinking about it. How the fabric would feel against the back of his head with every thrust of his tongue, if he would get damp with sweat quicker being under it, if Harry would leave a wet spot at the front of the skirt when his dick started to leak.

Harry throws his head back and lets out a breathless moan, “Yes, please”

They kiss again, Harry’s tongue claiming Louis’ in no time. When they separate, Harry asks enthusiastically against his mouth “How do you want me?”

Louis scans the room in the dark before ordering, “Bend over your desk”

They have only done this twice, but they have already established they’re both really into it. Louis could spend hours buried in between Harry’s cheeks and Harry could spend hours getting his arse licked. They’re a match made in heaven.

Harry hurries to his desk, getting rid of his underwear on the way. He sets his hands on top of it when he’s close, sticking his bum out and looking at Louis over his shoulder.

Even in the dark, Louis can make out the arch of his back and how it accentuates the curve of his bum. He traces his tongue over his lips, mouth already watering. He approaches him with a predatory look on his eyes, but before delving into it how he really wants to, he resolves to turn on the desktop lamp that’s resting to Harry’s right. It casts them in yellow shadows. He rests a hand between Harry’s shoulder blades and presses down, Harry going willingly until his chest is pressed against the wood.

He drops to his knees then, careful not to make a sound. He runs his hands up and down the length of Harry’s legs over the skirt, and then under, feeling the shivers it arises on Harry’s body.

He bunches the skirt up to Harry’s waist and takes a look at him. He’s spread wide from the angle, pink hole blinking up at Louis with anticipation, tempting him to lean down and kiss it. When he does, and his slightly glossy lips touch him, Harry whimpers.

As much as he enjoys the view of Harry’s arse cracked open and on display for him, the idea of eating Harry out _under_ his skirt wins over, so he lets the fabric fall down over his back, encasing him in darkness. He can still make out Harry’s features like this, but he brings his hands up to smooth over Harry’s arse and thumb at his pucker, bites lightly at the crease where his thigh meets his bum.

“Lou” Harry moans lowly. Louis presses a smile to his cheek.

He grabs a handful of Harry’s arse and spreads him wider, finally, finally leaning in to taste him. He starts slow, leaving short kitten licks over his crack before tracing the rim with the tip of his tongue. He keeps just flicking his tongue teasingly until Harry’s pushing his arse back and complaining,

“Quit teasing, Lou, c’mon”

Tightening his hold on Harry’s cheeks, he starts eating him out properly. He flattens his tongue against Harry’s entrance and laps in fat, long stripes, gathers spit and lets it drool down his crack.

When he starts pushing _inside_ , Harry whimpers the loudest yet, although it sounds muffled, so Louis’ sure that if he were to stick his head out of the skirt to look at him, he would see him biting the back of his hand or maybe with his fingers stuffed in his mouth. The mental image makes his hard cock twitch.

Every one of his theories gets proven right when he starts thrusting into Harry. He can feel the way his hair stands up from the way the fabric is rubbing against him, and the heat of being this close to Harry beneath it is making his forehead drip with sweat.

He can feel when Harry gets close with the way his thighs tense and his sock clad feet curl, the way he clenches around Louis’ tongue like he’s trying to pull him deeper inside. So he reaches his hand around to Harry to tug his cock. He’s entirely wet with pre come when Louis touches him, making the slide of his hand easier.

Louis jerks him fast, matching his strokes to the pace of his tongue.It isn’t long before Harry’s standing on his tip toes with the force of his orgasm, curled toes against the floor and spilling on Louis’ hand with a low cry.

When he’s finished coming, Louis pulls back and bunches the skirt up to asses his work. _God_. Harry looks _ruined_.

In the yellow light, Louis can see Harry’s arse red from how hard he was gripping it, white hand imprints slowly colouring again. He is messy not only with spit but with _makeup_ , rings of lipstick smeared everywhere Louis’ mouth touched him. He’s even got _green_ staining his bum cheeks from Louis’ face being buried in them.

Fascinated with the sight, he thumbs softly at the marks, spreading the colour. Hard cock forgotten until Harry offers, “want me to help?”

Louis looks up at him, breaking from his trance, and nods shakily. Harry kneels beside him and quickly brings him to relief with a spit covered hand beneath his corduroys.

Later, when they’ve catch their breath and changed out of their ruined clothes, they lay in bed, high on the feeling of being in love.

Harry’s got his head buried in Louis’ chest, his hot breath hitting him when he whispers, “Thank you, Lou”

“For what?” he asks sleepily.

“Just, for tonight, I guess,” Harry replies, words coming out slower than usual, “I’m just really happy”

Louis can feel the way Harry’s lips curve up in a smile immediately after he says the last word. It makes him smile too, “yeah?”

“Yeah” he starts, “it’s just, being with you like that, in front of all those people” he explains, the cadence of his voice letting Louis know he’s choosing his words carefully, “it just made me really happy”

It made Louis really happy too, to be in a place where they could be unapologetically themselves, surrounded by people that were like them and being able to kiss and dance and _touch_ each other, just like that, in the open, in front of a bunch of people. Like they never thought was possible before.

But when he hears Harry snuffling, face still hidden in his chest, he realises the double meaning of Harry’s words.

“I would tell the entire world we’re together if I could” Louis whispers urgently into the top of his head, a rogue strand of hair tickling his lips, “you know that, right?”

Harry nods, curls bouncing with the movement and nose smushing into Louis’ chest. But that’s not enough for Louis, he needs him to understand Louis would be the first to shout at the top of his lungs they’re together if he thought it was safe for them to do so, that even though they’re still in high school and the notion is unheard of, he’s already fantasised about marrying him. That he loves him so much there’s next to nothing he wouldn’t do to see him even a fraction of as happy as he was tonight.

So he grabs Harry’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts his head up to make him look him in the eyes.

“I love you, Harry” he enunciates desperately, trying to convey everything he feels in his voice. The younger boy nods gently.

“Talk to me, Haz” Louis requests, hoping Harry won’t get stuck in his own head like he’s prone to do.

“I just” he starts, his bottom lip sticking out and trembling a little, the same way it tends to do every time he’s trying to hold his tears in, “I want everyone to know I’m yours”

“Oh, baby” Louis coos, somewhat trying not to cry himself too, “I want everyone to know you’re mine too”

Harry nods again, straying his gaze elsewhere, his still painted eyebrows furrowed. He appears to be overthinking it again and Louis wishes he would just come out of his own head and talk to him.

He starts rubbing Harry’s hipbone with his thumb in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Suddenly, Harry whips his head up, the look of sorrow replaced by one of regret, and he starts talking really quick as though he can’t get the words out fast enough,

“And it’s not like I’m ungrateful, being able to love you and have you love me back is enough, sometimes–”

“I understand, sweetheart” Louis interrupts, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me”

Harry nods again, relief washing over his features. With a serious expression he starts speaking again, this time calmer, “I love you, and you are enough. More than enough”

The way Harry’s head nods with every word he’s saying makes it look like he’s talking to a toddler, like he’s trying really hard to get his words through to him. Louis chuckles lightly, amused by his boyfriend’s serious expression and then tightens his hold on Harry’s hip to say, just as determined, “I love you, too, baby”

Harry wraps his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight. Louis holds him tighter. He nudges Harry’s cheek with his nose where it’s pressed against his, until the latter twist his head to face him, prompting Louis to capture his lips in a fleeting, chaste kiss.

They settle again, rearranging themselves so that Harry’s back is pressed to Louis’ chest and their hands rest over his belly button, because Harry likes it better when Louis holds him like this, makes him feel safer.

When Harry’s breaths even out and his hands have gone limp on top of Louis’, the older boy dares to say, just loud enough to hear himself, “one day the whole world’ll know we belong to each other”

He doesn’t expect a response, doesn’t expect any type of acknowledgment really, so when Harry closes his hands around Louis’ again and squeezes hard, Louis startles a little. He can feel his cheeks warm up and it makes him smile.

“I promise” he whispers into the night and hopes the stars listen.


End file.
